A Grip On Reality
by TheLadyAthena
Summary: "Ariadne, I need you to listen to me, okay? I need you to do one more thing for me..." The Fischer job was nothing compared to what Cobb needs done. In order to help Cobb get a grip on reality, Ariadne might just lose herself. Ariadne/Arthur
1. Hysteria

A Grip On Reality

Ch. 1: Hysteria

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_Disclaimer: I don't own Inception or the characters. I only own the idea for this story._

_AN: Slight Cobb/Ariadne. More than slight Arthur/Ariadne. Hope you like. Reviews are candy for my soul..._

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Her stomach lurched. She leaned over to put her head between her legs. She was going to be sick, she knew it.

"Excuse me, miss." The voice was familiar, with the tone of a stranger. His hand was low on her back. "Are you alright?"

Ariadne wouldn't look up. She couldn't face reality. "Fine. I'm fine."

"You're sure?" Arthur asked, then, voice pitched low enough that he wouldn't be overheard, "Weak stomach, I'm guessing. You'll be fine, it's just the anesthetic wearing off."

She nodded. Arthur placed another hand on her shoulder and gently nudged her back into an upright position before calmly returning to his seat.

The plane gave another lurch. She rolled her head slowly to face the aisle. All around her, the other passengers were slowly adjusting to reality.

One was still.

She felt her heart plummet into her stomach. She watched Cobb, or what little she could see of him, for any sign of life.

Behind her, Saito gave a little gasp. Ariadne jumped, head whipping around. She couldn't see him, but she could hear him moving around, straightening the collar on his jacket that was probably worth more than her life. She looked back towards Cobb, only to find him already awake. Her heart stuttered, then slowed to a reasonable pace. "God," She whispered, leaning back in her seat. "Oh, thank God."

* * *

Ariadne found it remarkable how quickly the others took to their roles as passing strangers. It seemed she was the only one who found it hard to restrain her comments. As she grabbed her suitcase from baggage claim and wrestled it backwards, she was bumped from behind. "Watch it!" She cried, shooting a glare towards the man who'd bumped her.

Eames leered back at her. She felt violated, though she knew it was an act. He tipped an imaginary hat to her and slipped away into the crowd.

Standing alone in the crowded airport Ariadne realized she had nowhere to go. She drifted along with the crowd in a haze, not stopping until she was outside.

"Need a ride?"

She turned with a smile that faded a little too slowly. "Do I—?"

"I think we're safe." Arthur stated, offering his arm. She accepted it gratefully. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Uhm…" In truth, she'd been so caught up in the Fischer case that she hadn't thought of where she would go _after_.

"I figured as much. Don't worry, I took care of it," He smiled winningly and guided Ariadne towards a waiting car. "I assume Eames slipped you the celebratory drink invitation?"

She remembered the way he'd nearly bowled over her. Ariadne slipped her hand into her pocket and retrieved a tiny, folded piece of paper. _Drinks on me. 8 pm._ She assumed the illegible scrawl at the bottom was an address.

"On him?" Arthur glared over her shoulder. "What he means is, drinks on _my_ tab, courtesy of him." With that, he leaned forward to give his driver instructions.

Ariadne took to staring out the window. She had never been much of a fidgeter, but now she was restless, filled with uncontainable energy. She tapped her foot, jiggled her leg, tugged at her hair. It wasn't exactly attractive, but she'd been through so much in the past few hours—had it only been hours? Time held no meaning anymore—she couldn't stop and think about something so trivial as appearances. A pale hand reached over to rest on her leg, stilling it with a calm touch.

"It's over." Arthur said quietly. She nodded. "So what's wrong?" He asked, moving his hand from her leg to her cheek to turn her face to his.

She blinked, a single tear sliding down her face as the hysteria began to set in. "It feels like a nightmare. I can't escape it. I don't know if I'm asleep or awake… And… and…" She gripped the totem in her pocket. Inescapable reality… "And I don't think it's over yet," Ariadne yanked away from Arthur's hand, pressed her cheek against the window.

A buzzing in her pocket distracted her from the self-assured, condescending comments Arthur was sure to make. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and stared at the caller ID.

_Incoming call: D. Cobb_

She flipped the phone open and snapped, "Hello?"

"Ariadne." Cobb always managed to sound calm and in control, even when his voice was as urgent as this.

"Yes?" She whispered. This couldn't be good.

"Ariadne, I need you to listen to me, okay? I need you to do one more thing for me. Are you alone? Is there anyone else around?" Ariadne flushed red. He was speaking as if she were a child.

She felt like a child. Oddly comforted, she answered, "No. Arthur… I'm with Arthur." She glanced at Arthur, who was studiously ignoring her, jaw set.

His sigh crackled like static in her ear. "You'll be there tonight?"

"Wh—?"

"Drinks, Ariadne. Focus." Cobb was getting impatient. "I'll see you tonight. You…" He groaned, "you just stay with Arthur. Do you understand? Do not go anywhere alone."

"Okay." She was starting to pull herself together. She felt less frayed at the edges, her feet more firmly planted in reality. As the hysteria started to slip away, irritation set in.

"I need you, Ariadne. Please…" Was he begging? "I'll see you tonight." He ended the call with a click. Ariadne slid her phone back into her pocket. She felt Arthur's curious stare as he watched her.

"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" He finally asked.

"I don't see how it's any of your business." She snapped. Then, with a sigh, "I don't know what it was about."

Arthur nearly smiled. "Cobb has that effect on people."


	2. Fading

Ch. 2: Fading

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_AN: Thanks to all who reviewed! Sorry my chapters are supra short. I promise they'll get longer as I get going. To all those who fav'd and such, you are also appreciated._

_This chapter was incredibly hard for me to write. Yay for OOC... I need a sarcasm font._

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"Boo."

Ariadne twitched uncomfortably, smirking in spite of herself as Dom Cobb slid into the seat beside her. The faux-leather crackled under his weight, a nearly-inaudible protest. Cobb lifted his glass to his lips and studied the girl beside him.

She wriggled under the intensity of his stare, more discreetly studying him even as he studied her. He was a strong, demanding presence, though, she noted, his hands shook nervously and his eyes darted away from her every few seconds as if to be sure the rest of the room had stayed in its place. "Glad you could make it." He said on an exhale.

"I didn't think I had a choice."

He shot her a look. "There are always choices, Ariadne. Follow me." He stood up and walked away without a backward glance, gliding clumsily around the bar's other occupants. She breathed out a huff of breath. Cobb always expected his orders to be followed without question, for the simple reason that they nearly always _were_.

She smoothed the sides of her hair, brushing the stray strands back towards her tight ponytail. Finally, she stood and followed in Cobb's path. In the dim light, she nearly walked past the dark door. A hand reached out and brushed against her arm, too long to be dismissed as accidental. She slid through the darkened doorway, hearing the door click shut behind her.

Ariadne fumbled for a light switch until her hand was captured by another. She made an _eep_ sound. "Don't," Cobb breathed into her ear, startlingly close. "You'll adjust."

Sounds floated through paper-thin walls: glasses clinking, raucous laughter, overloud voices slurred by drink. It dawned on her how late the night was. Ariadne struggled to recall how long it had been since Arthur had deserted her in search of a bathroom, or since Eames had slunk off with a greasy smile and even greasier woman on his arm. The room around her slowly came into focus.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. Light filtered in around the door and dimly through a curtained window on the far wall. The room was roughly the size of a walk-in closet, with a small, beyond-questionable looking bed shoved into a corner. The only other furnishings were a wooden chair and a lamp in one corner.

Cobb released her wrist and settled onto the bed with a groan. "It's harder every time." He whispered.

"Excuse me?" Her voice sounded too loud. She cleared her throat and quietly repeated the question.

"To wake up. It gets harder every time." He was spinning something between his fingers. "I wasn't sure I could, this time. It's easier to get lost in a dream. It's better to just believe there's no such thing as reality." He looked up at her at last. "You're an Architect, Ariadne. You know how it feels. Genuine inspiration leads to a kind of genuine creation only achievable in a dream."

Ariadne shifted from one foot to the other. She cleared her throat again. "You… you said you needed my help…?"

He laughed, an odd, cracked sound. "Of course I did." Cobb ran shaking fingers through his hair. Something _plink_ed onto the floor and rolled under the bed. "Christ." He slid to the ground, looking genuinely scared.

She knelt down beside him. "Here, let me—"

"No!" He shouted. "Don't touch it! Don't…" He trailed off. His hand came out from under the bed and held a glistening silver top before his eyes. He sent it spinning on the floor. It spun and spun and spun, tilting wildly before toppling over. Cobb closed his eyes with a shudder, reaching out to cover the top as if protecting it from the woman beside him.

"Cobb… are you…" Several terms came to mind, but in the end she asked, "Are you okay?" It sounded ridiculous.

"I'm fine." He whispered, bringing his closed fist to his mouth. "No…" He muttered. "No, Ariadne, I'm not. I… I need your help."

"Anything." She tentatively wrapped her arm across his shoulders, feeling him crumple into her side dejectedly. Outwardly, she tried to be calm, though inside she was quivering. Who was this broken man beside her?

For a long time she just held him against her, trying to warm him from the outside in. She focused on the feel of it all: the silk of his crumpled shirt against her arm, the rough wood under her legs, the cool air tickling her back where her shirt had ridden up. She could use these elements to build her dreams. Ariadne quickly shoved the thought from her mind.

"I need to find her, Ariadne." He stated, a command building in his too-calm voice.

She didn't need to ask whom he was referring to. "She's gone, Cobb. You already let her go." She resisted asking the question: didn't he?

He drew in one more shaky breath, rattling Ariadne's bones, before drawing away. "Ariadne…" Cobb's voice was eerie. "You know where to find her."

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Arthur was waiting for her when she returned to the bar. He studied her stricken face for a moment. "We should get you home."

"Home is hours from here." She stated.

"_My_ home." When she turned her face toward him, he added, "I promise to be the perfect gentleman. I'll even sleep on the couch." A smile tugged at his lips. "Come on."

She looked back only once as they drove away. A figure, framed by the light from the open door, stood watching them solemnly, hands in his pockets. He ran one hand through his hair before striding off, disappearing into the shadows.

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_AN: ...This was so short. I apologize sincerely. Certainly considering up'ing the rating for future chapters. Not for the next one, though. That would be wayy too soon. Besides, Arthur PROMISED to be the perfect gentleman. Anyways, reviews would be incredible! I will love you forever!_

_(Plus, the more you guys review, the more I can improve, and the faster I want to update!)_


	3. Desire

Ch. 3: Desire

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_AN: http:/youkaiyume(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/INCEPTION-Dream-of-Me-172613571_

_http:/www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=oQ6aHTngQEg  
_

_Amazing inspiration for this chapter. I tried especially hard to write this one quickly for YOU, my loyal reviewers/fav'rs/subscribers! _

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Arthur's apartment was, in a word, tasteful. Beautifully carved antique furniture was arranged throughout the large front room, a mixture of leather and glistening furniture polish. Shelves lined the walls, filled with impressive leather-bound books (closer inspection revealed the books were mostly for show).

Ariadne squirmed on the ridiculously stiff high-backed chair in front of the fireplace. Tasteful, yes. Comfortable? Not in the slightest. The banging from the kitchen area wasn't helping the headache brewing just behind her eyes. She drummed her fingers on the decorative side table between her chair and its twin. The source of her headache could be easily traced... but she couldn't think of that now - the way his body had crumpled, his panicked scrabbling for the totem, his voice shaking- no. Ariadne couldn't handle it. The noise ceased. Footsteps padded closer and closer, their sounds absorbed by the spotless white carpet.

"Here," Arthur handed her a steaming mug. He collapsed into the chair opposite Ariadne and settled in with a hum of pleasure. She couldn't help but envy his comfort, every muscle in his body visibly relaxing. He caught her staring. "Is there something wrong with the tea?" He sipped at his own mug tentatively.

"Wha-? Oh, no, I'm just… more of a cocoa kind of girl." She laughed nervously before sipping at the tea. He was watching her now, she noticed. Ariadne could feel her face reddening under his gaze. She stared resolutely into her mug. _Calm down_, she reprimanded herself, _it's just Arthur, for God's sake._ But she couldn't help wondering if a dreamed kiss was, in fact, a kiss at all…

"I'm sorry about earlier," His voice made her look up at him, his face creased with worry and remorse. "Back at the hotel…" So they were _both_ thinking of the kiss, that sweet little brush of the lips. "Things were looking… not good, you realize? I got carried away."

Ariadne wriggled uncomfortably. She could feel her face fall, but couldn't stop it. "No, it's… it was just a dream, right? It was nothing." So why was her heart sinking? "No problem." She said, more to convince herself than the man reading her every expression with dark eyes.

"I just mean it was unprofessional," He continued. He gulped and said, "I don't usually…" Arthur coughed, "—don't usually, well, kiss… my Architect." Hurriedly he lifted his mug to his lips.

She smirked at the thought. "So you and Cobb haven't…?"

Arthur's eyes widened. He sputtered, choking on hot tea. "Christ!" He coughed out, struggling to keep his tea down. "God, no!"

"Well, you know, I just figured you two have been together for a while," She continued, almost reveling in the fact that she now had the upper hand. "You never know, you know? Not that I'm judging, I just never would've pegged Cobb for the type…"

"Oh, so you thought I was…" He couldn't continue, choosing to squint at her instead.

"Well, like I said, you never…" His stare was heated. She placed her mug on the side table, watching as he mirrored the act. "You never, umm…" Ariadne gulped and dropped her eyes. "You never know, you know?" She finished lamely, realizing how redundant and idiotic and _lame_ she had sounded.

Arthur's chair groaned as he stood and padded across the room. "Ariadne," he breathed, so close.

She looked up, her eyes falling on those sensual lips, quirked into a knowing smile. Her own lips parted with a sigh. "Arthur," she whispered in response.

He leaned closer, his breath heating her face. "It's late; let me show you to your room." He drew back and walked around her chair. The extra bounce in his step was worse than if he'd simply laughed in her face.

Furious, Ariadne stood on shaking legs and followed him down the dark hall.

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Her natural dreams seemed pale in comparison to the carefully constructed dreamworld of Ariadne's past weeks. Here, though, with no fear of discovery, Ariadne let her imagination run free.

Natural dreams were a struggle to control. She seemed to have an audience of projections, watching as she twisted and blurred the edges of her dreamscape. Here, she was both the dreamer and the subject, populating and creating the dreams all at once. Ariadne smirked as the natural turned to industrial, green grass fading under white tiles. Her heels clicked across the floor. She headed for the staircase. Projection-Eames gave her a nod and she winked at him, arrogant in the world made just for her, according to her.

The hotel room was almost exactly as she'd first built it, with a few minor tweaks to suit her purposes. The lights were dimmed, the bed larger, a single occupant reclined against the mounds of pillows. "Miss me?" His voice was amused. This time, it seemed, was the first time she'd gotten it right.

Ariadne grinned and kicked off her heels before flopping giddily onto the bed, hair fanned out like a dark halo. She didn't feel particularly sexy, but this was _her_ dream. She could act however she pleased. Slender fingers combed her hair. A pair of dark eyes watched her wriggle in pleasure. This Arthur projection seemed particularly chaste compared to the others she'd dreamed up, yet more real. His eyes crinkled. "What?" She asked.

"You. This." He paused, wriggled his eyebrows, "Us."

She knew it was silly, yet her breath still caught in her throat. "What about... _us?_"

The man leaned over her to kiss her forehead tenderly. She watched him - usually her dreams didn't allow for much watching-time - as he leaned back, sleepy eyes unusually intense. Ariadne loved the way this projection looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed, his eyes hooded, hair mussed. "It's so... silly. Hiding in dreams that could be made reality," His fingers trailed down her neck, "We can't live this way forever."

Ariadne sat up quickly. "You think I don't know that?" She cocked her head to the side, watching his guarded expression with one of her own. "You know what's _silly_? You're a projection! You can't just _talk _to me like that!"

"Ariadne," Her name on his lips, in that buttery voice, made her insides melt. Arthur paused. "You're right. Your subconscious shouldn't tell you that. C'mere." He reached over to pull her closer, planting a kiss on her temple and one on her cheek.

She closed her eyes, felt silk beneath her fingers, both real and imagined. She was floating in a place between sleeping and waking. Desperately, she grasped at the frayed edges of her dreamworld. It slid through her fingers with an almost-audible sigh of release.

Ariadne blinked, eyes straining to see something in the darkness. Out of the corner of her eye, a blacker shadow seemed to move with a rustle of silk sheets. Her breath caught. She jerked her head toward the shadow and saw... nothing. The door swung inward slightly, creaking on its hinges. Ariadne had left it open while she slept out of habit (she'd never felt completely safe with it closed to the outside world). She swung her legs onto the floor, intending to shut it. Her feet touched something cold and metallic. Ariadne paused before bending to touch the thing, whatever it was, that hadn't been there when she'd gone to bed. She felt its smooth edges, gentle curves and briefcase-like shape. Her cheeks flamed red in anger and embarrassment. She pushed it aside and stomped through the door, down the hall, and into the front room.

"Get up." She said, crossing her arms and leaning against a bookshelf. There was no response from the still form on the leather couch. "I know you're awake. Get up."

"Can we do this tomorrow?" The shadow of Arthur crossed his arms behind his head. Bright white teeth flashed in an easy grin.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded.

"I believe you're familiar with shared dreaming?"

Ariadne was suddenly glad for the deep shadows as her face heated. "You're ridiculous."

"I was curious."

"Yeah, well," she spit out, "curiosity killed the cat." In an undertone she added, "You'll be lucky if I don't kill _you _where you sleep."

"Please do," Arthur called out as she turned away. He chuckled as she stormed off.

Back in Arthur's room, Ariadne slid under the covers and shut her eyes, blinking back furious tears. How _dare_ he? What on _earth_ would possess him to enter the sanctity of _her_ dreams without consent or... She paused. She tried to tell herself that the Fischer job was a different story, what they did was _different_ from the heinous act Arthur had just proved himself capable of. But how could she justify what _she_ had done to Cobb? With a grumble of dissatisfaction, she thumped back into the front room. "I'm sorry." She stated.

In the silence that followed, Ariadne finally noticed how cold the room had become without the blaze of the fire or the heat of anger warming her body. She shivered.

On the couch, Arthur's lazy grin flashed again. "You know, it's warmer over here."

She laughed. "Not a chance. Good night, Arthur."

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_AN: I liked writing this chapter. Is a dream kiss, in fact, a kiss at all? Well, my lovely reviewers/fav'rs/watchers, if it didn't count, I wouldn't be writing this. In truth, this chapter was to sate my own thirst for some Arthur/Ariadne, because I'm supra lazy and don't want to sift through mountains of fanfiction._

_Reviews, please?_

_P.S. If you've read some truly amazing Arthur/Ariadne fics, please share. :) Like I said, I'm lazy... Haha._


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